


Blind Item

by jericho



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind closed doors, Justin doesn't exactly have the upper hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Item

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around 1999/2000. These are very early writing efforts. Forgive me.
> 
> I used to love to write Justin Timberlake as a huge slut who couldn't control himself. Which...has sort of materialized when you think about it.

Justin wondered how JC ended up making him feel like some slutty little boy. If he thought back, maybe it started the first time JC had ever kissed him. It was on the tour bus, when everyone else was asleep and Justin was sprawled lazily on the couch, channel surfing. They were somewhere in Britain, and the TV antenna wasn't picking up anything. Nothing except news and some rugby game.

JC came out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Justin moved his legs so JC had room to sit down. JC flopped next to him and patted his leg. "What're you doing?"

Justin stared at the TV mindlessly. "Nothing."

And that was it. The only conversational prelude before JC leaned over him and planted his lips on Justin's. Justin didn't fight it. His only reaction, in fact, was to kiss JC back. To move his hips a little against JC's, trying to suck everything he needed out of JC's tongue. He needed so much, but he wasn't even sure what it was he was after. Human contact? Intimacy? Sex? Okay, sex.

And that was what JC needed. Not the kind of sex he got with his girlfriend. Not the kind of sex you could get from a fan, although they technically weren't supposed to sleep with fans. JC needed the scrape of another guy's stubble against his lips. Strong hands gripping his arms. A deep voice to coo and pant and encourage him. And Justin knew this, because that was what Justin needed, too.

There was no emotional attachment to the kiss. Just raw animal lust. Justin let JC lower himself until the length of their bodies pressed together, and when JC settled in on top of Justin, Justin spread his legs without even thinking about it. Their cocks rubbed together through the cumbersome, frustrating material of their pants, and JC began to grind his hips, creating this friction that Justin knew, with a few more minutes of repeated exposure, would make him come.

And it did. That was all it took. Just a few minutes of JC rubbing against him, and their tongues sliding hungrily together, and Justin gasped a little into JC's mouth and felt every part of his body unhinge. JC gripped his arms as he shuddered, brushing his lips against Justin's, and then JC came too.

They lay there for a second, catching their breath, and JC smiled. It wasn't a timid, sheepish smile. Just a general, garden variety smile. Justin tried to smile back but couldn't manage it.

"Thanks," JC said, sitting up and grabbing the remote. "Let's see what else is on."

***

Justin lay on the bed in his hotel room. It was a better TV, with better reception, but there was still nothing on. Even the movies the hotel provided were ones he'd already seen or didn't want to see. It was that moment of downtime, the day before a show, a few hours to kill between appearances and interviews.

So he waited. Waited for that familiar knock, so he could get up and walk over and answer the door casually so it would look like he hadn't been waiting at all.

Eventually it came. Justin rolled off the bed and strolled to the door, opening it with a half smile. JC grinned. "Hey. Want some company?"

And Justin couldn't stop the breathy sound of his voice. "Yes."

The door swung shut and JC pinned himself against Justin, the two of them walking backward until they landed on the bed. Then fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers unzipped, and finally Justin felt that sensation he'd been needing all day, of JC's fingers working their way inside him.

JC rested his head on his hand and watched Justin squirm and writhe and pant. "You really do have an interesting body, you know," JC said.

"Yeah?" Justin breathed.

"Yeah. You come so easily."

It didn't sound like a compliment. Justin almost protested until JC's mouth trailed down his stomach and started sucking his cock with the same pace that he was working his fingers. Justin arched his back and groaned. "I need to come, JC."

"Not yet," JC said in a low voice. "Not like this. Roll on your stomach."

Justin rolled on his stomach and felt JC's weight on him, JC sliding in all the way to the hilt. Justin was a little surprised how easily his body adjusted to this. JC said he was born to fuck. Justin had always thought he'd been born to sing and dance, but maybe what JC said was true.

JC used his arms to prop himself up, each thrust delicious and perfect. "You love this, don't you?"

"Yeah," Justin said into the blanket, his arms curled in and the material cool against his skin. "Yeah."

"I bet you could get kinky. I bet I could put a collar on you and have you follow me around like a dog."

Another sentence Justin should have protested, but everything in his body rose a notch and he knew he was a little closer to having an orgasm. And it was all about the orgasm.

JC's thrusts were quick and deliberate, and Justin couldn't help but squirm and pant. Then JC's hand clamped over his mouth and he suddenly wanted to make noise. He whimpered and groaned and squealed into JC's palm. JC leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. Obscene things. Crazy things. Things that made him feel low and dirty and cheap, and yet suddenly he was coming, the friction of his hips moving against the smooth blanket enough to drive him over the edge. JC wouldn't let up for him. He knew Justin was coming and didn't even slow his thrusts. Just when the stimulation on Justin's prostate became almost painful, like everything was too sensitive, JC's body locked and shuddered.

JC petted Justin's hair. "That was nice," he said. He still hadn't caught his breath. "Maybe I should tell Joey about this so he can do you too."

Justin stayed in place when JC climbed off and grabbed his pants. He didn't really believe the remark about Joey. He didn't believe half of what JC said. He knew it was designed to bring him down. To crush his ego so that if only for a few minutes, JC could be number one.

***

Maybe it was because JC could reach into Justin's mind and pull out his deepest perversion. Maybe it was because Justin had always loved Joey, if only as an older brother. But when JC came to his room after a show and brought Joey with him, Justin couldn't bring himself to be upset.

JC went first, probably because if Joey went first it would be hard to keep his attention for the rest of it. And Joey probably figured it wasn't gay to give it. It was only gay if you received it. Which made Justin the gay one of all of them.

Justin lay on his back with his legs spread, hands running blindly down JC's arms, trying desperately not to come because he knew he'd have to endure at least 15 more minutes of it, and he didn't want to come before the end. When JC's cock slid easily in and out of him, triggering nerves and muscles and bumping against his prostate with each thrust, Justin tried to think of something else. Anything else. He squeezed his eyes shut so he couldn't watch, tensed his muscles in the hopes that it wouldn't feel as good. But that only made it feel better. So he mentally went through the set list, and then the dance routines, and tried to think of Wade Robson's voice when Wade was really pissed off and telling them that after all their practices, there was no way they should still be making these mistakes.

Finally JC came, pushing off and wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Justin breathed a sigh of relief.

"He'll come with you," JC mumbled. "He can't help it."

Then Joey settled between his legs, looking down at him with helpless lust. He ran his hand across Justin's sweaty forehead. "You okay with this?" he whispered.

"He's okay with it," JC said. "Trust me."

Then Joey slid into him, and oh God, he was even bigger than JC, and it brought on a whole new flood of sensations. Joey's thrusts were harder, less precise and not as calculated. It hadn't been two minutes when Justin started shaking. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down.

"Here he goes," JC said, his voice thick with humor. Then JC kissed Justin roughly, tongue sliding into his open mouth and teeth scraping against his lips. Justin's hand clamped on the back of JC's neck and held him there, loving the feeling of JC pulling at his tongue like he was trying to capture and claim it. Then he came hard, his back arching involuntarily, his whole body a mass of tremors.

Joey came not long after him and sat back on his heels. "Whoa," he said quietly.

Justin watched Joey crawl off the bed and look for his clothes, sliding into them and doing up buttons and zippers. "This is some fucked up shit," Joey said. It sounded like it started out being a joke, but ended up being the only way he could describe the situation.

When the door shut behind Joey, JC started getting dressed. Justin watched him, still not sure whether or not he should say anything. Finally he swallowed hard. "You can stay in here. Like, if you want."

"Nah," JC said. "Gotta get back."

Justin watched the door close behind JC and leave him in darkness again. He realized he was crying a little, and he wasn't even sure why.

***

It was a phone-in radio show, where fans talked excitedly over the air waves and *NSYNC politely answered their questions. And it only took a few calls to realize that all the questions were for Justin.

"I wanted to ask Justin what he looks for in a girl."

"I wanted to ask Justin, is he going to make any more movies?"

And then, the wanna-be articulate question, "I wanted to ask Justin, who are his musical influences?"

Justin answered them. Cracked little jokes, and Chris, his sidekick, joined in on them. Joey sat back casually, just happy to be there. And JC's eyes were hard.

Back at the hotel, JC came to his room almost immediately, pushing Justin back on the bed and undoing his pants. Justin lay back silently, letting him, and didn't say anything until JC started to stroke his cock.

"Don't," he gasped. "We gotta be out there in..."

"This is enough time," JC said. "You don't need a lot of time."

Justin closed his eyes, already shuddering helplessly. He felt JC lay down on his side, face hovering over Justin's, those blue eyes burning into his skin.

JC's voice was low. "Even Bobbie doesn't come as quickly as you do."

That brought a flash of JC with his girlfriend. JC doing these things with someone else. Someone he didn't say nasty things to.

Justin felt tears looming behind his eyes, threatening to spill. He pushed JC's hand away. "Stop."

JC stopped and leaned back. "Huh?"

"Just...stop." The tears came in a sudden rush, almost as quickly as the shame. Justin covered his eyes with his arm. He felt the mattress move as JC sat up. He felt JC's eyes studying him. He took a deep breath and gulped, but he couldn't stop crying.

"Justin..."

"Just go." Justin waved his arm in the air. He didn't really want JC to go, but he didn't want him to stay, either. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't think he even wanted an orgasm.

The mattress moved again as JC climbed off the bed. The next thing Justin heard was the door closing.

***

JC was ignoring him. There was no other way to describe it. When Justin sat next to him on the bus, JC moved, then eventually suggested that maybe he and Lance switch spots so JC could ride with Joey. It went on for one long painful week. A week of realizing that he couldn't come by himself anymore. Well, he could, but it wasn't half as good. A week of realizing that he wanted JC to talk to him, even if it was to say something nasty to him. He just wanted JC to talk.

They had just settled into their temporary hotel rooms when Justin took a deep breath and walked to JC's room. He knocked on the door, using the few seconds it took JC to answer to try to get his emotions in check. JC opened the door, his icy blue eyes narrowed to slits, his slender body covered by a pair of jeans and a Marlins T-shirt.

"JC," Justin said, trying to keep his words crisp and clear, but his voice was already wavering. "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off and..." Dammit, the tears were already rolling down his cheeks. He could feel them, hot and salty against his skin. "...and if you just give me a chance, I can make it up to you. I promise."

And now he was crying. Crying shamelessly, right there in the doorway. JC stared at him for a moment and grabbed his arm. "Get in here," he said quietly.

Justin walked in, the door swinging shut behind him. JC walked to the desk and grabbed a couple of tissues from the Kleenex box and handed them to Justin. Justin took them gratefully, trying to wipe away the scalding tears, trying to figure out why he was so upset.

"Justin, I thought you could take it. I'm sorry."

"Take it..." Justin said weakly, wiping his face. "I can take it. Seriously. The only thing I don't want is you not to talk to me." That brought a new wave of tears, and he wanted more than anything to just hide his face so JC couldn't look at him with that breed of empathy and guilt. "I can take it. I mean it. I can be...anything. Anything you want, I mean."

All of his pride had drained, he realized. He was willing to do just about anything. He'd get down on his knees and press his face against JC's stomach. He'd let the entire hotel do him if that's what JC wanted.

"Justin, you were just...so high. So on top of the world. That's why I thought we could do that stuff and it wouldn't bring you down."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry. It's my fault. I just..."

JC didn't finish his sentence. Instead he bridged the gap between them and hugged Justin tightly, pressing Justin's face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Justin sniffled. "I'm fine. Really. I just have a lot on my mind or something. We don't have to stop."

He felt JC petting the back of his head, like Justin was a kitten. "We really should."

"We don't have to," Justin repeated. Because he didn't want to. He _could_ take it. He was sure he could.

"Maybe we can even out the playing field a little," JC said. "Like, not always have it be me calling the shots."

Justin rested his chin on JC's shoulder. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"Is that what you want?"

Justin brought his arm around so he could wipe away the remainder of his tears. "I think so."

"Okay." JC pulled away and kissed Justin's forehead lightly. "Come back tonight. I'll be really nice to you."

Justin nodded, running his hand a little over his head, and actually smiled a little. "God, I can't believe I just cried. I'm so embarrassed. Let's just forget that ever happened, okay?"

"Okay."

"Well..." Justin turned awkwardly and pointed to the door. "I'm gonna go."

"Yeah. See ya in a few."

Justin walked out into the hallway and took a deep breath, walking slowly back to his room. He knew he still wanted the orgasm. But even scarier, he thought he might want a little bit more.


End file.
